


Freaks Like Us

by silentdescant, Sulwen



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glam Rock RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Barebacking, Bondage, Comeplay, Dom/sub, Felching, M/M, Public Sex, Sex Club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-21
Updated: 2012-04-21
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:20:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sulwen/pseuds/Sulwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy doesn’t want to hear the lesson plan. That’s what the audience is for. Tommy wants to get right to the core of the thing -- to live it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freaks Like Us

**Author's Note:**

> We felt like writing some random porn. This is the result!

Tommy is already in the back room when Adam arrives, sitting on a folding chair and running his hands over and over each other, a nervous habit. He’s always early, and it always makes him nervous, too much time to think about what’s coming. Adam smiles. It’s one of the best things about Tommy. He never changes.

He sits up straighter when Adam enters the room, and he pulls his hands off his lap and forces them down by his sides. It’s obvious even from this distance how worked up he is, how anxious, and maybe Adam should feel bad for him. If he’s honest with himself, though -- and he is -- one of his favorite parts of the whole process is this moment, right here at the beginning, before Tommy’s all calm and pliant and obedient. The moment Tommy lets him in.

Adam steps close to him, close enough for Tommy’s bony knees to bump his own, close enough to tower over him, and reaches out to cup his cheek. Tommy turns his head into the gentle touch, eyes flicking up to meet Adam’s, and Adam pets him for a moment, soft strokes of his thumb beneath Tommy’s eye.

“How are you?” he asks, not expecting an answer. He can read the tension clear enough in Tommy’s face, in the lines of his body. He bends and touches his lips to Tommy’s forehead, then lower still, to his upturned mouth. “We’re gonna have fun tonight,” he says quietly. Adam keeps his voice low and calm, and Tommy isn’t responding to it yet, but he will.

“I’m going to try something new,” he says. He gives Tommy time to object, but Tommy doesn’t, Tommy never does. He just gives Adam a look, blank curiosity, and Adam has to stroke Tommy’s hair, amused and grateful at Tommy’s brilliantly open mind. He has limits. He must, though Adam hasn’t found them yet. He wonders, sometimes, if Tommy would ever let Adam take him home and _try_.

He crouches down low, puts his face at Tommy’s level and looks into his eyes. “Gonna hang you from the ceiling, baby,” he murmurs, and there are better and more accurate terms for it, but Tommy doesn’t want to hear the lesson plan. That’s what the audience is for. Tommy wants to get right to the core of the thing -- to live it. “Hang you up and show you off. You trust me enough for that? Trust my knots?”

Tommy nods, a quick jerk of his head, then stares right into Adam’s eyes. Adam watches him breathe, sees the bright flash of pink as he licks his lips. He asks, “Is it going to hurt?”

“Not tonight,” Adam tells him. He knows that sometimes Tommy craves that, begs for it if it’s on the menu, but this lesson doesn’t involve any of Tommy’s favored impact play. “I’m just going to stretch you open, hold you tight. Hold you _still_. You can be so still for me, can’t you baby? You’ll be so nice and quiet for me.”

Tommy’s eyelashes flutter a little, but he keeps his gaze steady, keeps his eyes on Adam even as the pace of his breathing picks up, even as his pupils dilate.

“That’s it, Tommy. You’re gonna love it. I brought some rope that’s gonna leave such pretty red marks on your skin, baby, you’re gonna be perfect.” Adam smiles to himself as he thinks of it, already on stage in a heavy coil, more than he needs. Enough to finish the suspension ties and still loop around Tommy’s neck, or his cock, or both. He never knows the specifics until he gets out there, sees how Tommy’s reacting tonight.

He’s leaning toward Adam, now, probably not even realizing he’s doing it. Adam closes the distance, letting their faces touch, and listens as Tommy whispers in his ear.

“I’ll try.”

Adam can’t help kissing him again, kissing the words off his lips. He resists the urge to whisper back, keeping his voice in the same low, calm tone he’s used since entering the room. “You don’t have to try, Tommy. You’re perfect already.”

Tommy’s lips don’t even twitch at the praise that, at any other time, would make him smile. Adam taps Tommy’s cheek with his fingers, a slow pattern, and Tommy doesn’t respond to that either. Adam smiles. Now all Tommy needs is something to focus on, a challenge to keep him occupied while the knots and set-up take up so much time onstage.

“I brought a gag, too,” Adam tells him. “But I want you to stay quiet for me, Tommy. If you stay quiet, I’ll fuck you after we’re done. Can you be good for me, baby?”

Tommy licks his lips again, then presses them together and nods, eagerness creeping into his eyes. It’s restrained, of course, quiet like everything Tommy does, but it’s there, and Adam knows Tommy’s up to the challenge.

There’s a quick knock on the door, letting Adam know they have five minutes left, and he stands up again and shrugs out of his jacket, draping it over the back of a chair. It’s quick work to exchange his shirt for the more traditional leather harness, old habit. Flashes of a hundred nights come with it, sense memories that settle over him as the leather warms against his skin. Dozens of sessions just like this one. It doesn’t take much more than this to get him into the proper mindset, and by the time he turns around again, sees Tommy still sitting patiently, eyes open and watching and mouth obediently shut, it’s the easiest thing in the world to call Tommy wordlessly to his side, snap of his fingers and flick of his head.

Their audience is waiting.

*

Adam’s immediately comfortable under the bright lights of the raised platform that acts as their stage. The eyes on them are mostly ones he’s familiar with; this is a fairly advanced session, and most of the people he can see are regulars. He takes in the crowd, looking for nothing in particular, and when nothing jumps out at him, he turns around to find Tommy standing at ease, hands loosely clasped behind his back, in the center of the stage, right in front of the frame.

Adam murmurs to Tommy to undress while he gathers a length of rope in his hands and addresses the crowd, introducing both himself and his boy and giving a bare-bones summary of the activity they’ll be demonstrating. He touches the frame while he speaks, looking it over again, checking for any sign of weakness. It’s brand new, still smelling of the factory, and the wood is slightly rough under his hands. He’s already gone over the whole thing once, but it never hurts to look again, and it gives him something to focus on while he gives his usual safe, sane, consensual spiel. Tommy waits silently, good as ever, and Adam finds his eyes constantly turning to his naked form, pale and thin and looking deceptively fragile. There’s a strength in those narrow limbs that has surprised and intrigued Adam since their first scene together, a strength they’ll be testing tonight. He takes a breath and reaches for the rope.

Adam leaves Tommy’s arms for last during these intricate bondage scenes; he doesn’t have an assistant to help him with the ropes, and Tommy’s obedient and careful with anything Adam hands him. He holds perfectly still while Adam wraps the ropes around his waist, between his legs, around each thigh, over and over again. It’s a long process, and as Adam starts to flip the rope faster, it begins to arc out and brush against Tommy’s cock, teasing little brushes that must be rough against the sensitive skin. He’s not surprised in the least to see Tommy getting hard at the contact, and he pauses just a moment to give Tommy’s cock a little slap and mouth _be good_ at him. Hard is all right -- good, even -- but not until he’s got the cock ring on. A scene where Tommy comes too quickly doesn’t end pleasantly for anyone.

Adam goes back to work, losing himself a little in the repetition of it. Eventually, he catches Tommy watching his face instead of his hands, and Adam quirks his lips in a private little smile before turning his attention back to the audience to explain the knots holding the rope harness together. He takes the ends of the rope out of Tommy’s hands and Tommy immediately reaches behind him for his own wrist, settling into the pose while Adam loops the ropes over the frame and ties them tight. The resulting tie looks like a triangle surrounding Tommy’s cock -- matching wraps of rope around each thigh and one around his waist, with lead ropes coming off and tying off on the framework -- and Adam runs his fingers around and over each part of it, making sure it’s tight but not _too_ tight, double checking every knot.

When he’s satisfied, he moves on to the next part of the tie, matching wraps that go under Tommy’s arms and lay over his nipples, the rope joining just in front of his collarbone on its way up to the frame. Tommy’s shifting from foot to foot now, his patience wearing thin through all the tedious work, like he’s anxious to get off the ground. Adam narrows his eyes and, without warning, shifts both lengths of rope into one hand, freeing the other to find Tommy’s hair and give it a sharp pull. The chatter of the audience silences instantly, and the mood in the room shifts into something more serious, something deeper than a mere instructional demonstration.

Tommy’s neck arches and holds, and he doesn’t fight Adam’s grip at all. Adam keeps him like that for just long enough to make a point -- _behave_ \-- then lets his hand fall away, back to the ropes. Tommy slowly brings his head up, and now his lips are pressed tight together and he’s breathing hard through his nose, eyes a little glassy and unfocused. His cock, when Adam glances down, is fully hard. With his thighs held open by the ropes, he’s completely vulnerable to Adam’s hand reaching between his legs to cup his balls in his palm. Tommy’s breath comes a little bit quicker. Adam squeezes.

He doesn’t want Tommy to speak -- he wants that reward for silence as much as Tommy does -- and he’s pleased when Tommy keeps a lid on it, biting out a quiet, wordless noise and then lapsing into silence again as Adam lets him go. He’s gotten the message, and his cock has wilted to a more manageable state. They still have a ways to go.

Adam resumes his work with the rope, creating a harness around Tommy’s torso and draping the ends over the top of the frame. He holds them both in one hand and lays his other palm flat on Tommy’s sternum, carefully pushing him back into an arch, urging him wordlessly to trust the hold of the ropes, trust Adam’s hold. Adam wraps the tails of the rope around his wrist and slowly lets them slide over the frame, lowering Tommy into a more severe backbend, until he’s up on his toes and struggling for balance.

“Let it go, let it happen,” he instructs. “You won’t fall.” And Tommy obeys, stops struggling against it, lets his feet lift a few inches off the floor, lets the ropes hold his weight. Adam ties off the ropes holding Tommy’s torso and pets Tommy’s chest, strokes his hand down to Tommy’s exposed stomach. He can feel Tommy breathing rapidly and he waits a moment, leaving Tommy with his limbs dangling as they will, until Tommy calms down.

The rest of the tie is easier, now that Tommy’s suspended, thinner loops of rope around his knees and ankles, intended more to restrain his legs, fold them up and pull them open, than to support his weight. He talks to the audience about safety checks while he finishes the last of the knots -- how to read the color of the skin, how to tell if blood is still flowing, what to do if the rope catches in the wrong place. After he ties off, he steps outside the frame for a moment and picks up the heavy shears he always has on hand for intensive bondage like this, talking about how quickly things can go wrong, how sometimes even the best rope handlers aren’t fast enough at untying for a sub who’s starting to panic. He would cut Tommy down in a second if he heard his safeword right now, and never mind the forty minutes of work and the expensive rope that would be destroyed.

Not that he’s expecting that, Adam thinks, setting the shears down again and turning back to face Tommy again. His eyes are closed, and his muscles are still tense, still not quite relaxed into the rope, but he’s not struggling either. A perfect palette for Adam to work with, to bend to his will. He could have Tommy screaming in panic within two minutes if he wanted to -- but it’s not fear he wants. Never that. There’s something so much sweeter on the other side, and all it takes is the right touch, the right word. So simple, in the end, after all the complexity of tying is done.

Once Tommy’s legs are up and spread, held out of the way, Adam circles around and takes Tommy’s arms in his hands, drawing them back and pulling Tommy into a sharper arch. He loops a length of rope fairly loosely around Tommy’s elbows, locking them behind his back, then moves down to Tommy’s wrists. He ties them much tighter, because he knows Tommy can handle it, then tweaks Tommy’s fingers with his own. Tommy squeezes back, a silent confirmation, a checkpoint in their progress. The hard part is done, and Tommy’s relaxing into it now. Adam trails his hand over Tommy’s body as he comes back around to the front of the stage, already starting his lecture on some of the things this particular position is good for. He doesn’t have his floggers or candles with him today, but the long, smooth line of Tommy’s body, exposed and held so still for him, is so sorely tempting. It would be a shame to tie him up so pretty and not do _something_ with him, even though the demonstration has pretty much reached its end.

There’s a little box of toys Adam keeps here at the club, and though they’re all his property, he thinks of them as Tommy’s. There is more than one cock ring inside, but tonight Adam pulls out Tommy’s favorite, the one with the small metal studs dotting the inside. They’re not sharp, but they’re just big enough to hurt, each one a point of pressure as sensitive flesh presses harder and harder against the unforgiving band. And Tommy _will_ be hard, Adam thinks, smiling to himself as he comes back around to the front of the stage. It’s so easy with him, sometimes, almost too easy, like even his body is straining for it, reaching for the pain. Like he’s made for it.

He drags his hand down the slope of Tommy’s chest, pressing the short length of leather to Tommy’s skin, letting him feel the metal studs so he knows what’s coming. Tommy can’t really squirm in this position, but his muscles tense and his head drops back, and Adam can tell he wants to move, make noise, _react_. He grabs Tommy’s cock and jerks it roughly, more to keep his erection in check than bring him closer to orgasm, then quickly snaps the band tight around the base. He lets the roughness of his touch taper off until he’s just barely grazing Tommy’s hard cock with his fingertips, feather-light tickles that Tommy can only feel now because he’s bound in place and unable to move.

Tommy’s whimpering now, choked-off little bits of sound leaking out past his still-sealed lips, and Adam takes his hand away, reaching up and laying two fingers over Tommy’s mouth, a silent reminder. He’s standing close to Tommy in this position, so close their bodies actually touch in places, and he can feel the tightness in his muscles, the way he shifts minutely from position to position, looking for the most comfortable way to let his weight rest in the vice-like grip of the ropes. It’s too tempting, _far_ too tempting, to make him forget about comfort, about that last semblance of control. He lets his fingers drift down over Tommy’s jaw, his neck... and then he presses _in_ , nails digging paths into Tommy's skin, white trails turning red all the way down Tommy’s chest and belly and finally his cock again. It’s a minor pain, but as tense as he is, Tommy reacts as if he’s been burned, fighting back another whine and arching beautifully in the tie, stretching himself as far as the ropes will let him. He doesn’t get far.

Adam forces himself to take a step back and really look at Tommy’s body, make sure everything’s still as it should be; his knots have held and the way Tommy’s relaxed into the rope will surely leave gorgeous marks on his skin, but he can’t see that yet. All he can see now is the flushed discoloration where the ropes have cut into Tommy’s bloodflow. Adam traces the lines of one of the ropes around Tommy’s chest, wedging the tip of his finger into the gap where it’s holding Tommy suspended, and Tommy feels so hot under his hand, burning up and throbbing with the frantic beat of his heart.

Tommy is small, and Adam’s hands are big, and it’s the easiest thing in the world to fit his hands around Tommy’s chest, holding him tight and pressing his thumbs into the rope right where it crosses over Tommy’s nipples. The tie isn’t designed to have give, but he’s still able to shift it back and forth, just a little, just _enough_. Tommy’s nipples are tiny and sensitive, and Adam’s spent many nights on this stage testing and teasing them, working them from light pink to a dark, angry red, listening to Tommy struggle to breathe through the sensation. Now, the roughness of the rope and the pressure Adam lays in have much the same effect, and Adam knows by the look on Tommy’s face, the way his eyes close and his mouth goes slack, that under those coils Tommy’s nipples are hardening for him, responding to his touch just as easily as the rest of Tommy’s body. He wants to rip the ropes off and take them in his teeth and _bite_.

“Time to come down, baby,” he says, too softly for the audience to hear. Tommy doesn’t give any sign he’s heard, but that’s all right. He told Adam about what it was like, once, being under. He remembers everything. He hears Adam and nothing else.

Adam begins the process of untying Tommy, makes sure to keep his hands on Tommy’s body whenever possible, to calm him and hold him steady. Soon enough, Tommy’s feet are back on the floor and his arms lax against his sides. Adam works backwards, unwrapping the coil of rope from Tommy’s chest and leaving him just standing naked in the waist harness, leashed to the frame but standing under his own power. Tommy only sways a little as he regains his balance, and Adam’s there with his hand behind Tommy’s back, ready to catch him if he loses his footing.

As the ropes come off, the marks on Tommy’s skin become visible, deeply red only because Tommy’s so very pale, because his skin marks so easily, and not because Adam tied him too tightly. His nipples almost look bruised, but that’s nothing unusual for one of these sessions, and Adam knows the color will fade quickly. He sometimes wishes it didn’t.

Finally, Tommy’s free of all the ropes and able to step away from the frame. Adam gives him a quick once-over, then brings Tommy to the front of the stage for the aftercare demo. They don’t go into much detail, because for Tommy the scene still isn’t over, won’t be over until he’s back in the dressing room with his own soft blanket and clothes, but Adam gives the audience a run-down of how to care for a sub after a suspension session. He tests Tommy’s extremities, makes sure there’s no lingering numbness, rubs away the pins and needles even though it muddies the clear rope-lines criss-crossing Tommy’s skin.

Under the touch of Adam’s hands, Tommy’s shaking a little, even after the strangeness of being on his feet again should be long gone. He pauses in his speech, not wanting to share this with the crowd until he knows what it is -- not really wanting to share it at all.

He turns Tommy away from their curious eyes and pulls him close, and Tommy reaches up and takes hold of the leather harness crossing Adam’s chest, gripping it so tight his knuckles go white. Adam bends his head down to murmur in Tommy’s ear again, slow and soft.

“All right, Tommy?” he asks. Tommy takes a shuddering breath, but doesn’t answer, and Adam smiles a little to himself. “You can talk, baby. Answer me. Everything okay?”

Tommy coughs, clears his throat. Then he says, just as softly, “Yes, sir.”

Adam has never asked for the honorific, but he takes it gracefully whenever Tommy gives it to him. He doesn’t examine the way it makes him feel too closely. That way lies only pain, and he’s no masochist himself.

“You’re shaking.”

Tommy nods, and presses himself closer. “Just want you so bad, sir. Please.”

Adam gives Tommy a smile and rests a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Okay, quiet now,” he says, and Tommy quickly presses his lips together again. Tommy’s earlier eagerness hasn’t returned yet, but Tommy’s still hard, still gazing at Adam in the way that pleads for a touch, a taste, _anything_ , and Adam knows Tommy will be squirming again soon enough. Adam squeezes Tommy’s shoulder as he addresses the audience, wrapping up the demonstration and asking if there are any questions. These people know by now to keep questions relevant to the lesson; they want the Q&A to wrap up as much as Adam does.

Adam answers a question about skin discoloration, has Tommy hold out his arm and pinches him hard to show how easily he marks, and then another question about the ropes. Tommy falls into the role of Adam’s assistant easily, now, obedient to Adam’s every word and nod. He fetches a coil of unused rope and waits patiently while Adam ties and unties three different knots, standing close beside Adam with his hands clasped behind him. He’s being so good, so quiet. Adam can’t wait for the reward.

Finally, the questions come to an end, and the mood in the room shifts from... clinical, almost, to something else, something thicker, heavier. Adam turns away from their audience and puts one hand on Tommy’s bare shoulder, right where it curves into the neck. It only takes the barest pressure to have him sinking to his knees, all the breath going out of him as he does so in an audible rush. The position puts his face level with Adam’s cock, hard and aching in the tight confines of his pants, and it’s tempting to take that one step forward and press himself against Tommy’s face, his closed lips... maybe unzip and give them a reason to open.

But that’s not the promise he’s made Tommy tonight, and anyway, it wouldn’t be enough. Adam knows what he wants. He’s been thinking about it for longer than he cares to admit -- and he came prepared.

Set off to the side of the stage is a heavy wooden board, hinged at one end and designed to part in the middle, like a director’s slate. Four holes march their way down the middle, two large ones on the outside meant for ankles, and two small ones on the inside for wrists. He has one of these at home, too, but this one stays at the club. He had ordered it specially, sized down a few inches, after realizing his own piece stretched Tommy just a little too far. This one is perfect.

Adam sets it near the front of the stage and throws the hinge open, and Tommy stares down at it, lips finally parted and quirked up a little at the corners. He waits for Adam’s nod, then arranges himself into position with his ankles and wrists lying in each of the half-moon wells. It puts him in a deep bow, his face pushed against the floor so his arms can stretch back underneath his body, and it leaves his ass perfectly available and open for Adam. Adam strokes his hand along the curve where Tommy’s lower back dips, follows it all the way down to his shoulders, the back of his neck, and turns Tommy’s head to the side so there’s no pressure stretching his neck and chin. He makes Tommy face the crowd, but when Tommy closes his eyes, he doesn’t mind.

The lines of Tommy’s body are relaxed now, and he’s smiling as Adam snaps the lid of the stocks closed, locks the pieces together and tests the fit around Tommy’s wrists. Tommy’s tried to escape, couldn’t fit his hands through the holes, but Adam always traces his fingers around the gap, under the pretense of making sure it’s tight enough. He likes feeling Tommy’s pulse jump and race under his fingers.

When he’s satisfied, Adam kneels on the floor behind Tommy, settling himself into a comfortable position and then reaching out again, unable to keep his hands off all that smooth skin. Tommy doesn’t have much in the way of curves, but bowed like this, ass presented in the air, the lines of his body transform into a dozen rounded places Adam wants to touch, grab, _bruise_. He runs his palms over the cheeks of Tommy’s ass, spreading him open, feeling the heated lines of skin where the ropes held him only a few minutes ago. Tommy tenses under Adam’s inspection, but only for a moment, so much better at letting himself be exposed than he used to be. Adam smiles darkly, and leans forward, and lets a puff of warm air graze over Tommy’s hole, watching the muscles flutter and feeling his own body respond. Enough teasing. They both deserve this release, and it would be cruel to keep it from them any longer.

He has a packet of lube in his pocket, and he spreads some around Tommy’s hole, but he doesn’t waste time stretching him. It’s about fifty-fifty whether Tommy stretched himself before the session today, and if he didn’t, it means he wants to feel the burn, not because he wasn’t expecting to be fucked. Adam used to be diligent about stretching Tommy, and he still is when they do demos for a more amatuer crowd, but he’s come to learn certain things about Tommy, and one of those things is that Tommy enjoys pain. So Adam lets him control the pain, in scenes like this, just provides the method.

When Tommy’s ass is glistening wet, Adam unzips his pants and pushes the sides down, freeing himself from the tight material. He doesn’t want to strip, doesn’t need to, when all Tommy needs is his cock.

He takes his cock in hand and drags the head, bare, through the slickness on Tommy’s ass, up and down over his hole just to hear Tommy’s gasp every time he does it. It’s torture every time not to simply thrust _in_ , but it’s worth it, worth all the self-control just to push them that much higher. If Tommy were free right now, he’d be thrusting back against Adam, his body begging to be split open on Adam’s cock -- but he’s not free, held almost completely immobile by the stocks, and instead he does his begging with his eyes, twisting his head to look back at Adam over his shoulder with the biggest, darkest eyes Adam’s ever seen. There’s more than want, there. It’s desperation. And Adam can’t hold back any more.

When he finally presses in, he finds Tommy almost _painfully_ tight, and it’s slow going for a minute or two, shallow in and out thrusts that go deeper each time, forcing Tommy’s body to open for him, let himself be fucked. Adam can’t breathe, and Tommy’s gone frozen, and there’s not a single sound from the crowd of people watching them. And then, endless moments later, he’s bottoming out, his hips flush against Tommy’s upturned ass, and he slides his hands up to ring the thinnest part of Tommy’s waist and _pulls_ , forcing himself in just the smallest bit more -- and that’s what finally punches the cry out of Tommy’s throat, shockingly loud in the silence of the room, pain and pleasure and god knows what else, everything he can’t keep inside any longer.

Now that they’re fucking, now that Tommy has his reward, Adam encourages the noises. He scrapes his nails down Tommy’s sides and hooks his hands around Tommy’s hips again, rocking his whole body back against Adam’s cock. Adam likes the faint red lines that streak Tommy’s skin, no match for the deeper red of the rope marks, but he wants more, wants to draw on Tommy and show him off. He sets his nails to Tommy’s back and digs in hard, and Tommy can’t arch his back, can’t escape the flash of pain, but Adam looks down between them and sees Tommy’s hands clench into tight fists as he groans.

He thrusts inside again and stays, leaving his cock deep inside Tommy as he reaches down around Tommy’s legs, looking for and finding his bound cock. His flesh is straining against the cock ring now, wanting to get fully hard and finding only the unforgiving metal instead. Adam can fit the entire works in the span of one hand, and he cups Tommy tight, fucks into him again with his grip still in place, and Tommy’s cries edge closer to the side of pain, high-pitched and wild with it. He wonders if he should let Tommy come tonight. He’s been good, he deserves it... but there’s always next week, and Adam could make him hold it, bring him back strung-out and oversensitive, ready to do anything just for the chance at release.

And then Tommy’s ass clenches around him, and he’s not thinking about anything any more -- he’s just _fucking_ , leaning back and putting all the strength of his body into it, picking up the rhythm and losing himself in the slap of flesh against flesh, the tight heat of Tommy’s ass, the way each stroke gets smoother and slicker and _wetter_ as precome leaks out of him. Tommy is moaning, and maybe the crowd is moaning with him, carried along to the peak with the two of them as the pleasure intensifies as Adam’s thrusts quicken again.

Adam grabs at the latch of the cock ring and snaps it open one-handed, immediately taking Tommy’s cock in his hand and feeling it throb desperately. It doesn’t even take any stroking, just squeezing, just holding, before Tommy’s coming into his palm, all over his fingers, groaning weakly as Adam continues to fuck him. The sensitivity will get to Tommy soon, but Adam holds on for several long moments, waiting for the cries, waiting for Tommy to speak and _say_ it, admit that he can’t take it anymore.

“Please, please, please,” Tommy chants under his breath, “please, sir, please, please...”

“Please what?” Adam asks, harsh and breathless.

“I can’t, it’s too much, sir, I...”

Adam gives Tommy’s softening cock one more squeeze and then pulls his hand away. He leans forward, draping himself over Tommy’s body instead, bringing his come-streaked hand to Tommy’s mouth and giving him one simple order.

“Suck.”

Tommy’s mouth opens for him without hesitation and Adam thrusts three fingers in. Tommy cleans them, sucks them as if they were Adam’s cock, and moans when Adam thrusts them in and out, pushing hard against Tommy’s lips. Then Adam takes his fingers out and just covers Tommy’s mouth with his palm and Tommy’s tongue darts out, smears through the mess still coating his hand, slurps it up and sucks like he can’t get enough.

It’s too much for Adam, and his hand goes tight over Tommy’s mouth, pulling him back into the last rhythmless thrusts, deep and desperate and then _gone_ as he seats himself inside Tommy one more time and lets it go, coming long and hard, every pulse sending shivers all through his body. It’s impossibly good, the freedom of it, the intimacy, emptying himself inside Tommy this way, and just the thought of it has him shaking with aftershocks of pleasure, his hands tightening on Tommy’s jaw and on his hip, his own mouth wide and gasping for air. He can’t move. He never wants to move again.

After a few moments, he starts rocking his hips, carefully, slowly, in and out. His cock comes away wet and slick with his own come, with the excess lube around Tommy’s hole, and when he finally pulls out all the way, Tommy gasps behind Adam’s hand, lips sliding through the spit and come staining Adam’s skin. Adam moves his hand and lets Tommy suck in huge breaths of air, his ribs shuddering with it as he exhales again.

Adam settles back on his heels. His cock is lying against his thigh, still hanging out of his pants, but he doesn’t want to put it away yet, doesn’t want that constriction right now when he’s so sensitive. He focuses instead on Tommy’s hole, gaping and fluttering now that there’s nothing filling him. Adam slides two fingers in, easy and quick, then back out and in again with three, keeping Tommy stretched and open. He can feel that slickness inside Tommy, Adam’s come making him slippery and wet on the inside, and he curls his fingers, trying to capture some of it, cup it and drag it out, smear it on the outside of Tommy’s ass instead.

Tommy’s expecting them to be done -- Adam can tell, looking down at his face, how he’s blinking and looking around and working on getting his breathing back to normal. But Adam’s not ready to be done with Tommy yet, not quite. In a few minutes, they’ll go back into the dressing room, and Adam will wrap Tommy up and hold him as long as Tommy will let him, and then he won’t see him again for another week. Won’t even know where he is or what he’s doing. Won’t know if he’ll even be there for the next session, not for sure, and just because Tommy’s never missed one yet doesn’t mean he won’t someday.

Adam readjusts his stance on the floor, his knees starting to ache, and brings both his hands back to Tommy’s ass again, pulling him open one more time. He’s so much _more_ open now, the stretch of Adam’s cock still on him, and he’s so wet, shining under the stage lights. He’s at the wrong angle for it now, but Adam wonders if he sat Tommy up, held him open like this, if the come would drip out of him, run down his legs and onto the floor in a warm, sticky mess, marking him as Adam’s. He leans closer, and he can smell it now, unmistakable, his own scent on Tommy, _inside_ Tommy, and he wants to get closer, wants to bury his face in it, wants to taste it...

Tommy jumps -- or, he tries -- when Adam’s tongue touches his hole, clenches up as much as he can with Adam’s hands holding him open, and it makes Adam smile. They don’t do this, not usually, and Tommy doesn’t know to expect it; Tommy is so willing, so open-minded that Adam doesn’t often get the chance to surprise him, so it’s a treat when he does find something completely outside of Tommy’s expectations.

Adam licks his way inside, trying to pull that taste into his mouth, that mixture of himself and Tommy, inseparable scents and tastes that Adam could pick out on either one of them but are so much better combined like this. He feels a sharp rush of possessiveness and lets it flow over him, surrenders to it because this is his one chance to own Tommy, this one night, once a week, that Tommy’s his. His tongue goes deep, Tommy so loose, fucked-open, and there, inside him, is the unmistakable thick, viscous slide of come. Adam moans without meaning to, the sound muffled and low, and Tommy startles again as the vibrations thrum through his body. He’s struggling, pulling against the stocks, and Adam knows his wrists will be raw and bruised later, but right now he lets it go, lets everything go, the world narrowing down to his tongue, pointed and licking, drinking his own come out of Tommy’s ass like he’s thirsty for it, _dying_ for it.

He doesn’t stop until something finally catches his attention, something that’s not quite right. It takes a moment to recognize Tommy’s voice, hoarse now, chanting something over and over. He sounds worn out. He sounds _done_.

“Adam... Adam, please, come on. Oh _fuck,_ fuck, Adam...”

Adam stops. He’s never heard Tommy say his name on this stage -- during a scene, he’s always been “sir.” He sits up and wipes the back of his hand over his wet, messy mouth.

It’s not safewording. But it’s close.

He tucks his cock back into his pants and zips himself up quickly, then reaches down to unlock the stocks and pull them open. In the next moment, he’s gathering Tommy into his arms, wincing at Tommy’s groans as stiff joints are forced to work again. A little too much, this time. He’s a professional. He shouldn’t have let himself get carried away like that.

Adam gives the audience a perfunctory thank you and herds Tommy back through the door, away from all those hungry, needy eyes. Tommy’s already coming up from his headspace, Adam can feel it, and he doesn’t want to subject Tommy to those people, not when he knows how uncomfortable the aftermath is for them both. He takes Tommy back to the dressing room and sits him down, then digs through Tommy’s backpack for his thick fleece blanket, drapes it around Tommy’s shoulders and smiles easily when Tommy snuggles into the warmth.

Adam’s own travel bag has most of their usual aftercare supplies, but for this scene, they don’t need bandages or antiseptic. Tommy just needs warmth, clothes, comfort. Adam can give him that, no problem. He takes off the leather harness first, shedding that skin for the night, and pulls Tommy into his arms. The blanket is soft and Tommy folds it around Adam’s shoulders so they’re both huddled under it, and Adam’s glad that Tommy lets him so close after these scenes, lets Adam touch his bare skin, stroke his hair, kiss him if they’re both up for it. Tonight, Tommy isn’t; he pillows his head on Adam’s shoulder and just breathes, clinging to Adam’s back and building up the warmth underneath the blanket. It’s too hot for Adam, too close and sweaty after the exertion of the scene, but it’s what Tommy needs, what he likes, and Adam wouldn’t deny him now.

Eventually they break apart and Adam cleans Tommy up with some moisturized wipes, erases all the lube- and come-stains from Tommy’s skin. The rope marks remain, but as Adam rubs his thumbs over the deepest of them, he estimates they won’t last two days. They’ll be mostly faded by tomorrow morning. He finds Tommy’s usual track pants and oversized t-shirt in his backpack and helps him dress, finds them both bottles of water in the mini-fridge reserved for these lessons, and finally pulls Tommy back into his arms.

They don’t often talk much, but sometimes, on nights like these when Adam enforces silence, Tommy needs to get that control of his voice back afterwards. Adam waits for him to start, and he hears Tommy take a deep breath, preparing to speak, but nothing comes out. After a few minutes of quiet, Adam turns to Tommy questioningly.

Tommy just smiles at him, eyebrows lifted in amusement, and says, “Wasn’t expecting that.”

“It was all right, though? You got kind of frantic right at the end.”

“No, it was good,” Tommy assures him quickly. “It just wasn’t the scene I had in my head.”

“No? Well, I like catching you off-guard. It doesn’t happen often,” Adam says.

Tommy goes quiet again, rests his head on Adam’s shoulder. “I didn’t think you’d let them see that.”

“When else would I have done it? This is all the time we have, in front of all those people. If it made you uncomfortable, I--”

“It didn’t. Like I said, I just wasn’t expecting it. That doesn’t mean I didn’t _enjoy_ it.” Tommy flashes a quick smile, then settles back against Adam. Adam lets out a deep breath and wraps his arm around Tommy’s shoulders. He’s still clutching the blanket, but he’s not wrapped up in it anymore, not hiding.

There are a thousand things Adam wants to say, all the things he’s ever wanted to tell Tommy and hasn’t. And yet... tonight has shown him even more how much he _doesn’t_ really know Tommy. Not well enough to take a risk like that. On stage, he could do practically anything -- and has -- and Tommy would smile afterward and shake his hand and tell Adam he’ll see him next week. But here, now, in the privacy of their own space and the intimacy of a shared blanket, the wrong word could end it all in a heartbeat. And maybe it makes him a coward, but Adam can’t do it tonight.

He leans down and lets his lips rest against Tommy’s forehead in what is almost, but not quite a kiss, and keeps quiet. A few minutes later, Tommy pushes himself out of Adam’s arms, wraps his blanket into a bundle and stuffs it into his backpack, and lets out a deep breath. He smiles. He looks calm now, _normal_ as he holds out his hand for Adam to shake. It’s how they’ve left every session thus far, and Adam doesn’t see that changing.

Tommy quirks an eyebrow, lips twisting into a grin, and says, “Same time next week?”

Adam nods, and shakes, and says, “Yeah. Next week. Absolutely.”

And that’s that.

 

 _fin_.

**Author's Note:**

> Here are a couple of pictures we used for inspiration. (NSFW) [Rope bondage](http://www.toys4lust.com/furniture/bondage_photos/4.jpg) and [the stocks](http://www.toys4lust.com/furniture/bondage_photos/69.jpg).


End file.
